


Whumptober 31

by Waywocket



Category: Original Work
Genre: Ableism, Torture, binding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:33:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27296467
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waywocket/pseuds/Waywocket
Summary: After a long weekend in the closet (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27077218) the doctor has a theory on how to make her better
Kudos: 1
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	Whumptober 31

Tiffany had lost her sense of time as she stood hunched in the little closet. No light came from under the door and hardly a sound. She had long given up on begging for help. No one there wanted to help. No one would save her from this. She was alone.

It had to have been a few days at least. They hadn’t even given her water or a bathroom. She hated herself, but there was nothing for it. All she could do was silently beg the Powers that they wouldn’t let her die in that closet. If the Powers could even her in her little cell.

When at last light came, she weakly tried to shield her eyes and whined quietly at how bright it was. Without the door to help hold her up, Tiffany collapsed. Hitting the floor, she groaned softly, unable to even pull herself up again.

She felt herself being lifted, grateful to be free, she tried to mumble as much, wishing they would let her go. Just for it all to be over with. Tired, hungry, and sore, she just wanted to go back to before. Even before, it was better than now.

There was no energy to fight back as two men dragged her through the ship again. They took her into a new room. There was a large metal table there with various straps and there was blood on it. 

As they forced her on the table, she feebly tried to struggle as fear surged through her. This wasn’t going to be good. She knew it couldn’t be. 

The straps pinned her tightly to the cold table. Even her head was painfully strapped onto the table. Try as she might, she couldn’t move but to just barely breathe once they had all the straps tightened. She could just feel the circulation being cut off. At least before she could move, even if just a few inches.

Eyes darting around the room, she saw the little man from before step into the room. He leaned over her and gave her a wide and menacing grin. It made her even more uncomfortable. There was nothing trustworthy about this man.

“I see your little vacation has done wonders already! How wonderful,” he cheered in that falsely chipper tone.

Tiffany hated it. The false kindness made her seeth. “What are you going to do?” Hardly any bite in her voice, even though she was angry. She hated how weak she was. Being at someone else's mercy made her ill.

“Just a wee bit of surgery. Nothing to be afraid of!” Holding up a scalpel in her line of sight, he used it to point and wave as he talked. 

“You see, we have a theory,” he walked around the table as he talked, hands never stilling, “that you have just a little sick part of your brain,” he explained. “That is what makes you lash out and get so stressed when you shouldn’t. So, the theory is; we remove the sick part of your brain, and you can be your proper self. Isn’t that wonderful? Don’t you want to be normal?”

Well, truthfully, she did, in a way. What she really wanted was to be treated like she was normal, anyway. Things would have been better if she had just been treated better. If they didn’t tell her that she was so much less, just for not being what they thought she should be, blame her for things out of her control.

At the moment, though, there was a larger concern. “But it’s only a theory?” She asked, her voice still only barely there.

The little man beamed at her, tapping the blunt end of the blade against his other hand. “Yes, well. We can’t prove that it works until someone actually survives the surgery.” Briefly, he looked put off, but he quickly grinned again, that grin that turned Tiffany’s stomach. “They never seem to survive the procedure, sadly. But you’re a resilient one! This time, I’ll try it when you’re awake. Perhaps that will make all the difference.”

“Are you insane?” She screamed, panic in her cracking voice. She tried again to struggle, but she couldn't move at all. What kind of crazed maniac left a patient awake? Tears pricked at her eyes. It was all she could do, and it wasn’t nearly enough.

“It will be alright,” he cooed, trying to assure her. 

“You’ll be right as rain once this is over.” Leaning over her, he raised the scalpel again, bringing it down, aimed at her face.


End file.
